A/N: Thanks again for the nice comments. Luv you guys. Sorry about the delay of updates. I'm not in the mood for writing this fic in the moment, plus I'll be on vacation next week, so don't expect any more updates in the next three weeks.
But keep the reviews coming. They make me feel good and maybe I'll find the muse again :D
Spinning the Wheel 29 - I'm not an addict
Now Buffy knew why none of the nurses at the local hospital had objected to releasing Spike as soon as possible.
If he wanted to, he could be the most annoying man in the world. And she thought taking care of Dawn was a pain in the ass. He could be whiny as a baby. Not only that, he was extremely picky about what to eat - the worst thing was that he still refused to sleep in a real bed.
"No, I won't." he snapped and almost pouted, although the effect of his complaint faded due to the light nasal tone of his voice.
Buffy slumped down in the chair opposite the couch where Spike lay, a pillow stuffed under his head and a blanket drawn up around his chest.
"Spike," she sighed heavily, "Will you just stop being such a baby? You have to sleep in a real bed. This is... this is just ridiculous."
"No, I won't. And it's not." he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest.
Buffy could swear that he was pouting for real now. "Give me one good reason to let you stay on that thing."
"Cause I ask you to." Spike replied, sitting up. He felt a little nauseous as he did but he sensed a talk coming up, so he wanted to gather a little dignity.
"Is it because of what's in that room?" she asked and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. She knew that talking about this would be difficult but she wanted to get to the source of this, she wanted to know why he kept being to stubborn...
He just nodded in answer.
"Why do you lock that door? Don't you want people to see it?" Pulling teeth was nothing compared to this.
It took Spike almost a minute to open his mouth. "I don't want to see it.." he said then, his voice flat. He didn't look at the young woman but he could almost feel her frown. He would be frowning, too, if he was her. "In that room... the stuff you've seen there... that's me. I mean... that was me, the man I've been. Before." He gestured towards the wheelchair that stood a little off to one side of the couch within arm's reach.
"You don't want to be reminded?" She knew that pushing him wouldn't do any good but she sensed that it was too hard for him to say it himself. So it was no wonder that he just nodded again. "You want to preserve the memory." she added and he nodded once more.
"I can't be that man ever again. It's over. And this", he rubbed his hands of over his blanket-covered legs, "This is just a shell. It's nothing."
Spike shifted his weight to sit a little more upright, as a pang of sharp pain shot through his body and he winced. Almost on it's own accord, his hand reached for the small orange tube of painkillers on the table. Dropping two of the pills into his palm, he lunged for the glass of water.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Buffy gave a start and jumped to her feet.
He had the tablet already between his teeth, so he just glared at her over the rim of the glass. After he had swallowed, he replied. "It hurts."
"Well, duh." She went over to him and yanked the tube from his hand. "Of course it does. It I told you what the doctor said. Your nerves and muscles are rebuilding, that's what hurts. And you keep blocking the process with these things."
"Buffy, don't be delusional. It's not going to happen." He was a little irritated about her sudden outburst but that changed into anger pretty quickly.
"Well, maybe not. But you could at least give it a chance." With that she stalked over into the kitchen and poured the tube into the sink.
"Are you insane? That stuff costs a fortune." In moments like these, he wished he could run over to her to keep her from doing even more stupid stuff.
"I don't care." she shrugged and tossed the tube into the trashcan.
"Buffy", he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. A dull headache began to settle in behind his eyes. "I know that you got good motives. But it won't work. I will never walk again." Saying it still hurt. Lots.
Buffy looked at him for a long moment, the wheels spinning in her mind. "You will not or you don't want to?"
"What?" He blinked in irritation.
She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. "You know what I think? I think you don't want to walk again. You are afraid."
"Are you completely nuts now? How can you say that?" Anger flashed in his eyes and he swung his legs off the couch, facing her now.
"Cause it's true. First I thought that you just didn't believe in it but now I think I got to the real deal here. Being in the wheelchair has changed you, no doubt, but you use it as an excuse. As an excuse to sit back and dwell in your misery, to chase everyone away who cares about you. If you could walk you might have to face living again. And that's what you're afraid of."
For a long minute, Spike just stared at her, then blinked and lowered his eyes.
He didn't know what to say. Partly because he was a little dumbstruck by her speech. But mostly because Buffy was right.
She had hit it right on the spot with every single word. Thinking about being able to walk again, to live again, scared the living hell out of him. He had retreated with the bridges burning behind him, with nothing left to come back to. He had no idea what he would do then. He barely scraped by with his writing and he highly doubted that his band would take him back. He had read some reviews of their CDs and gigs, they were making it big and they wouldn't need him anymore.
Spike looked up to see Buffy standing in front of him, holding out a hand to him. A small key glistened between her fingers, the key to the bedroom.
"Please." she said simply, her voice calm and her face resolved.
He held her gaze for a moment before he sighed and took the key from her hand. "Why do you do this to me?"
"You know why." she replied and a thin smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. 'Because I'm falling for you and I want to see you smile again' her mind added.
He pulled the wheelchair a little closer and lifted himself over in it. The nausea ghosted through his system and he blinked a couple of times. He really needed to sleep in a real bed.
Without another word he moved past her and out into the hall. Buffy heard the click-clack of a door unlocked. She gave him a moment, then followed him.
He sat in front of the closet where his coat dangled from its hanger. His fingers brushed over the worn material and she hear him exhaling a shuddering breath. She knew it must be hell for him but it was for the best.
"It was my trademark. I wore it... everywhere. Especially up on stage. I was... different when I wore it. Stronger. Tougher."
Buffy flinched at his words, that he knew she was there and that he told her this so openly.
Then, he turned around - his eyes grazing her briefly - and moved towards the bed. He stopped and picked up one of the pictures on the nightstand.
"She choose the bed. She said it spoke to her." He smiled thinly, "I never slept in it alone."
His fingers ran over the surface of the picture. She could see deep sorrow flicker over his features before he looked up at her.
"Can you stay here? With me? Tonight?"
Why was it still so hard to talk to her about this? To ask her such questions? They had already slept in one bed. But this was different. This was his bed, his room and he had told her what he felt for her. That didn't make it any easier.
"Sure," she nodded.
"I still... I still have that shirt from... that night when you slept here." he confessed, a blush creeping on his cheeks. "It's in... the living-room." That he had held it in his arms and inhaled her fading scent every night when he had tried to sleep, he left out. He didn't want to make an ever bigger fool out of himself.
"I'll go and change then." With that, she disappeared back into the living-room.
Spike was just pulling a shirt he used to sleep in over his head when Buffy came back, in just that shirt again. His eyes travelled down her tanned legs and up over the shirts hem to the soft curve of her hips and her breasts.
"Huh?" he snapped out of his more or less R-rated thoughts, when she spoke to him.
"You want me to wait outside?" she asked, her posture by the door giving away her awkwardness.
He hesitated for a moment but then he shrugged. "No, it's... its okay. If you don't mind seeing a totally ridiculous attempt to get undressed." He covered the rising insecurity with a lame joke.
"Why not? Enlighten me," She shot back, went over to the bed and sat down at the end.
Spike lifted himself over into the bed and untied the cord of his sweats. Buffy watched him as he shifted to one side to pull the pants over his butt, then on the other before he could pull them down his thighs.
"You're right. It's pretty ridiculous." She joked but her tone was serious.
"You've been warned." He slipped out of his pants and threw them over the armrest of the wheelchair. "You mind if I stay in those?", he gestured at his boxer-shirts, "I want to save what little dignity I have left."
"Whatever you like." Buffy crawled backwards on the bed.
Again, he hesitated. He just sat there and stared at his scarred knees.
"Spike, if you're not comfortable with this we can..."
"No, no. It's... okay. It's just..." he rubbed at his tired eyes.
"It's because this is your bed, right?" Carefully, she reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched at the touch and then nodded.
She could feel him trembling beneath her hand; he must have tears in his eyes again. Now her conscience kicked back in and she felt guilty for putting him through this. But they both knew that it had to happen sooner or later. If they were supposed to work on a relationship, they had to try and work on all the issues that had piled up between them. And sleeping in one bed – supposedly his, since Buffy's bedroom was on the second floor – was one of them.
Buffy snapped out of her guilty thoughts when Spike laid his hand over her's and entwined his fingers with hers. "I know you're right. I know I have to sleep in a real bed, that I'm scared... it's just that I'm..." His worlds trailed off and he lowered his head again, trying to hide his face from her.
"It's okay. I'm sorry that I'm doing this to you." She shifted closer to him and wrapped her other arm around his shoulder, leaning her head again his back. They stayed like that for a while and she tried to give him all the comfort she could.
It helped to feel her warm body pressed against his, to feel her presence both physically and mentally.
Then, she pulled back from him, drawing him with her. Buffy slipped under the barely used blanket and Spike struggled a little until he got his legs beneath it as well. He lay down on the side he used to sleep on. It felt good actually, much better than the old and battered couch.
Buffy lay on her side, watching him as he tried to settle into a more comfortable position. She tried to push the thought away that this was the bed of Spike and his girlfriend. She was very much aware of the shadow hanging over their heads.
An awkward silence settled in between them and then he turned on his side, facing her. "When I dream... please wake me up."
She nodded quietly, then leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the forehead.
For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Despite the darkness in the room, they could see each others face clearly.
Buffy could sense that he was still afraid, that tears still made his eyes glisten in the dim light. He was definitely uncomfortable with this but he didn't pull back because of her, she knew and felt it. It almost radiated from him.
Looking at Buffy was like a warm blanket wrapped around his insecurities and fears; she was his anchor, saving him from being swallowed into the depths of utter misery. And he had no words for all the the gratitude he felt.
His heartbeat slowed a little and he closed his eyes, drifting off into sleep.
Buffy awoke about an hour or two later when she heard Spike moaning beside her. It wasn't a pleasant moan, it was a nightmare just like he had predicted.
His back was turned towards her, so she pushed herself up on her elbow, reached out putting her hand on his shoulder, trying to shake him awake.
"What?" he jerked around, as far as his half-paralyzed body would go and stared at her, in what could best be described as bone-rattling shock.
"You were having a nightmare." She told him, in a soothing voice.
He blinked, trying to shift gears around that and then the familiar memory came rushing back. "Oh... right." He sounded as if he was talking to himself. He stared into the darkness, his eyebrows twitching along with the gruesome pictures burned into the back of his mind.
Finally, he turned fully towards her and looked at her for a long moment. She was watching him calmly. She had no idea what to do now. But his pleading eyes gave her a hint only a second later.
So Buffy lay back down reaching out her arm to him and without another word, he snuggled closer, his head resting on her shoulder. She looked down at him. Maybe he hadn't been fully awake but his eyes closed almost immediately.
Mirroring their first night together, she wrapped both her arms around his shoulders, drawing him more towards her. She breathed in his scent and gave him a tender kiss on the head, letting him know she was there. Then she closed her eyes and slowly drifted to sleep along with him.
It wasn't a surprise to either of them that there weren't any more nightmares for him that night.
